Bloodstained
by Yukirei
Summary: Miles has nightmares of a different kind; vampire AU


**Bloodstained  
**_By Yukirei (a.k.a. Cosmiko Ling)_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney/Gyakuten Saiban or any of its characters. This is a non-profit fanfiction written by a fan, for the enjoyment of other fans.  
**Warning: **Character spoilers up to GS2  
**Characters: **Miles Edgeworth, Franziska von Karma  
**Summary:** Miles has nightmares of a different kind; vampire AU  
**A/N:** I think this was written for a request on the Phoenix Wright kink meme on Livejournal. I'm afraid I lost the link. :(

* * *

_Why is this so familiar?_

The rain like a white curtain, shrouding the area around him.

The warm yellow glow of the sparse street lamps in the night.

The uncomfortable feeling of his soaked pyjamas, drenched by the downpour, clinging to his wet skin.

The pain in his chest as his breaths escape in a rush through his open mouth.

His heart pounding incessantly in his head.

An ache, like pins and needles, gnawing in the area of his neck, discomfort coursing through his entire body.

The occasional lightning that splits the skies and lights up the shadows.

He sees the puddles under his bare feet in the brief moments of light. They are coloured in crimson and dread washes over him like the heavy rain.

His eyes close and he sees a flash of white - teeth - no, _fangs_.

And he screams.

It is the nightmare he has been having for the past week. A new nightmare that has intertwined with his usual nightmares of being trapped for an eternity in a lightless elevator as the world shakes violently around him. Gunshots. Screams. Blood. And now, fangs.

He doesn't understand.

The first night he remembers seeing this dream, he had awoken in his bed, bathed in a sheen of perspiration, to the sun shining through his bedroom window. The sun was glaring to his eyes, uncomfortably warm on his skin. He had promptly slid off his bed to draw the heavy curtains, almost falling as his knees buckled under him, suddenly feeling too weak for his weight. He had bit his bottom lip, hoping he hadn't been too noisy in his clumsiness, and picked himself up, hobbling along with palms pressed against the wall for support, till he reached the window. The room was thrown into darkness with the removal of the curtain tieback. His mind at ease, he sleepily climbed back into the comfortable hole under his sheets.

He woke later in the day to find the family doctor standing by his bedside, talking to his guardian in a low voice. He watched his guardian and the elderly doctor for a moment, his sleep-dazed mind trying to comprehend what was going on, before his gaze turned upon the child who stood silently at the end of his bed. His guardian's daughter was staring at him. As their eyes met, he saw in her usually cold eyes something unusual - fear, and his heart skipped a beat as it mirrored her emotion.

There was nothing to worry about for now, his doctor had told him soothingly upon noticing that he was awake. It seemed to be a case of anaemia not entirely uncommon in children and could be remedied with a regular course of iron vitamins. His guardian stated a remark of insufficient nutrition in his previous household and he had to bite back the urge to tell them fiercely that the meals his father prepared for him had always been very healthy.

He spent the day in bed. Their butler and housemaid attended to his needs. The doctor departed after a reassuring smile and compliment of his sensibility. His guardian left for work with succinct words to rest well that conveyed to him his concern. His sister vanished to her lessons, popping into the room once in a while with a kittenlike smirk on her face; knowing that his life was in no danger, she now seemed pleased to be one day ahead of him in their studies.

By the day after, he was out of bed and attending lessons once more. The curious incident of the day before was almost forgotten in the light of day save for the times for his iron pill medication and sudden bouts of exhaustion; yet in the dark of night, his dreams remained haunted by the new images his mind had conjured in that night.

Eyelashes fluttering for a moment, his eyes open, wide grey orbs.

His heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

The scenery before his eyes remains unchanged from his dream.

The dark night, the cold rain, the yellow street lamps.

His fists clench slowly.

He is shivering, he realises. From cold or fear, he can't quite discern.

He remembers the tinge of red and the sharp white.

Hesitantly, he looks down at his feet. It is too dark to see, surely. Yet he thinks he sees lines that tell of the layer of water that cover the street, ripples from the raindrops that pelt down.

A streak of lightning lights the sky and the water at his feet.

Red.

The colour he saw.

His breaths come irregular as his gaze lifts, following the trail of scarlet.

It is dark again. But he sees the outline of a motionless lump across the road.

He keeps staring. Perhaps he is waiting for some movement, perhaps he is simply too frightened to move forward.

The next flash of lightning reveals to him the true shape of the unmoving mass.

A bloody mangled creature.

Once a beautiful dog that he knew well. It is, was, the family pet.

His hand flies to his mouth, squeezing tightly to stifle his cry. He does not know what has happened but he can feel emanating from within him that something is wrong. Tears sting his eyes, blur his surroundings. And then, he is sitting on the ground, his bottom hurting from the sudden action. His hand falls from his mouth as he pulls his legs toward himself to hug his knees.

Another flash of lightning and he finds the same red that soaked into the body of the dog and stained the water at his feet now clings to his palm, drips down with the rainwater that washes his skin.

It is then that his mind throws at him the possibility... that somewhere in the night he doesn't recall, he could have killed their beloved dog.

The thought itself scares him. He pushes it out of his disobedient mind, hugging his knees tightly, dissolving into shuddering breaths and broken sobs.

"Miles Edgeworth... Miles Edgeworth..."

The voice can only be his imagination. He must have been in the rain for far too long.

"You shall _not_ ignore me, little brother."

Brief pain sears across his back.

It is the familiar sting of a small whip.

His head snaps up and his eyes find his guardian's daughter close by, dressed in a white nightdress, snugly warm in a dark grey coat, a black umbrella in one hand, whip curled in the other.

She walks forward and stops before him, holding the umbrella over his head. Even standing, her petite frame was not all that much taller than him sitting down.

The rain no longer beats on his body, but water continues to drip steadily from his wet locks of hair.

His hand finds the ground and he pushes himself back as she leans forward.

He snarls and then catches himself, wondering in horror at his instinctive reaction even as he hears her gasp.

Staring up into her eyes, hesitantly - he is afraid of what he might see in them, he sees not the fear that had shown itself mere days before, only steely determination.

"What are you doing out here, Franziska?" His voice is surprisingly steady, even if too soft to be much more than a whisper. "Your father will not be pleased."

"I came to get you, little brother," she answers without hesitation, stretching her hand to him.

Something blooms in him that makes the chilly night feel a little warmer. "But did you see...?" His eyes dart to the unforgettable, unforgiving creature across the street.

She only nods. "Come, let us return home, Miles Edgeworth." She waves her hand slightly, signalling her impatience.

He needs to be strong, he decides resolutely, pressing his pale lips together firmly. He hastily wipes his hands on his pyjama bottoms, anxious to ensure that no trace of crimson remained, before raising one hand to hold hers, his other hand taking over the umbrella, as he gets to his feet.

However confused, upset, frightened he is feeling at that moment, he needs to push down those crying emotions and be strong in front of this little girl who came out to get him in this stormy night.

"Let us return home, Franziska."

* * *

Date written: Sep/Oct 2008


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